


The Dealers of Secrets

by Dragonsigma



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Ethical Questions, M/M, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:58:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonsigma/pseuds/Dragonsigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim finds himself and the people he cares about pursued by information-trading telepaths who are willing to go to any means to steal and sell their secrets, even those that may put the entire universe at risk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There's a crucial and incredibly delicate diplomatic operation planned for the morning, so he really does need the sleep, and for once he actually listened to Spock's boring sensible advice and didn't have too much alcohol or coffee during the day, but the universe must have a personal vendetta against Jim Kirk because that's when the nightmares of Khan- and the memory of his own death- decide to return in full force.

     His dreams spin from the usual entertaining nonsense into terror and explosions and the Enterprise crumbling around him, suffused with the sick certainty that either he's gonna die or they're all gonna die. The mad warlord's threats ring through his head, shaking the ship to pieces and somehow Pike is there too, calling him a failure and a rulebreaker and a disgrace, and then he's dying and _everything hurts_  and he doesn't even know if the crew is safe yet but he's certainly not...

He wakes, and his ship is there and undamaged, she is solid and steadfast beneath him, but that does nothing to stop the shaking. He sits up and tries to think.

_Fuck. I thought I was over this._  Groaning, he runs a hand through his sweaty hair and curses Khan, the universe, and his own stupid head. Fucking nightmares. It's like he's a kid again, running from imaginary monsters (and sometimes real ones), and it's humiliating. He's _the captain_  or at least he tries to be, and a starship captain shouldn't be waking shivering in the middle of the goddamn night because he died over a year ago. That's _over._  That's long gone, he's alive now and he should be getting on with his life; his ship and his crew need him. This is no time to be so fucking weak.

He's debating whether or not to try to go back to sleep, which will probably be nearly impossible at this point, or get up and try to do some paperwork or reading or something, but he's still fucking shaking, what the fuck is wrong with him…

He's jolted out of that unanswerable contemplation by his door buzzer, and it's Spock, of course it's Spock, and Jim doesn't know whether to curse him or love him because he always knows. Maybe it’s some Vulcan thing or another; Jim should think it's disturbing that Spock can sense his mental state, but somehow it's not. For someone who claims to have no emotions of his own (although they both know that's not exactly true) Spock sure does show a lot of concern for Jim's. It hasn't been this bad in months, not since he was still in recovery and Bones had him doing physical therapy and stupid mental exercises every day and when he wasn't in pain he was bored and when he wasn't bored he was shivering in remembered fear or the thought of all the people he lost, held to reality and the present only by the touch of Spock's steady hand on his wrist.

He had counted himself lucky that his First was a skilled touch-telepath. Even without a proper meld, Spock could relieve some of the fear, instill calm in its place. But even he couldn't do anything about the lingering grief and guilt, and Jim had eschewed the comfort after several weeks, claiming that he didn't need the help. He might have been uncomfortable with the idea of relying so heavily on someone else, but he had also been grateful. He knew how important it was to work as a team, but he had vowed to fight the rest of his mental battles alone. And succeeded, mostly. The closeness between him and Spock faded slowly as they returned to their ship and their stations, leaving only memories strangely sweet and a level of understanding they hadn't shared before.

Spock steps into the room with a look that would seem neutral to anyone else, but Jim hasn't worked with the guy for this long without learning how to read him, and he knows that face means concern. Concern for him. He doesn't deserve it now, not when he should be beyond needing it.

"Captain. I would not interfere, only, you are demonstrating considerable distress."

Demonstrating considerable– yeah, that's a pretty accurate description actually. And now he's bothering Spock as well as himself. Fuck. 

"It's nothing. Really. I'm sorry I woke you."

"Jim. You did not wake me. I was meditating, in preparation for the mission today. It is far more important that you are well." And somehow it _hurts_  to see the concern now clear in his eyes.

"It's just-" and he's not going to say nightmares, because that makes him sound like a fucking five-year-old. He sighs, or tries to, because the noise comes out more choked than he intended, and Spock takes another step towards him. This is ridiculous, he doesn't need to be comforted in the middle of the goddamn night by his goddamn First Officer like some kind of helpless kid. Some of the fear and pain curls into anger, anger towards himself, and while that doesn't feel like much of an improvement it's at least better than the alternative. Jim sighs again and this time it sounds almost normal.

"I dreamed about him again,” he admits, “Khan.” He drops his head into his hands because even saying the name sends another shiver of fear through his body. And why is he fucking shivering he's safe on his–  _his–_ ship, how does this even make sense? He can snap awake in an emergency and be perfectly fine, but throw a few memories at him… He feels a gentle hand on his shoulder and looks up to find that Spock has pulled over a chair from their chess game the previous evening and is sitting beside the bed. Jim thinks that he shouldn't be allowing this sort of thing, but he doesn't have the heart to send Spock away and he has to admit– if only to himself– that it helps quell the lingering fear if not the shame at having reacted to it. 

"Dreams are a perfectly normal reaction to traumatic events," Spock tells him, softly, "In fact, they are to be expected. As I have told you before, you have nothing to be ashamed of. In no way does this diminish your character or your abilities."

He tries to believe it, knows Spock is telling the truth, but it does little to stop him feeling weak and pathetic and stupid. For a few minutes, anyway, before those thoughts are drowned out by an intense tiredness. He lies down to sleep again, hoping this time Khan will stay well away.

 

~o~ 

 

When he wakes up again it's actually a normal hour, which is good, and he's actually rested, which is even better. Spock left at some point; his chair is back at the table and there's no sign anyone else was even in the room. Which Jim is glad of, it would have just been awkward to wake up with Spock still there. Even if a small part of him seems to like that idea, he needs to get to work. Even if he can’t fully shake the thought of Khan from his mind.

Pulling on a shirt, he checks his padd to find that Uhura has sent him several reminders about the major cultures of the Treyessa, as if she hadn't already briefed the entire diplomatic team on the native etiquette the day before, and the day before that. She’s involved with a complicated law translation, so she’s not coming on this mission, but she’s still making sure it will go smoothly. Once, Jim would have considered this an insult, Nyota thinking he couldn't even be bothered to remember, but a few taps shows him that the messages have also been sent to everybody else planning to visit the planet and he considers that it's just her making certain her job is done right. His crew is amazing, even if some of them are a bit uptight and some of them are barely adults at all. It might be a bit hypocritical to think of Chekov as a kid when he's nearly twenty and already saved their ship several times, especially when Jim already leads one of the youngest crews in Starfleet history, but the guy is just so damn adorable, especially when he's curled up next to Sulu in one of the rec rooms playing those retro video games Sulu somehow got installed in the entertainment servers. Sulu's saved his ass a fair number of times himself. Carol too, her weapons knowledge had saved an entire starbase from radical anti-Federation terrorists shortly after they began their mission. He still loves telling that story over drinks, how she spotted the bombs among the various bits of newly-installed machinery and disarmed them before any damage was done. Then there was that time McCoy saved that governor's son when the kid had an allergic reaction to those giant wasps. And– actually, his whole damn crew is just amazing.  

There aren't any other pressing messages in his inbox– just a few news items from Earth and the recent Federation conference, along with some requests from Engineering for experiments with low-energy shielding and regenerative materials. All of those can wait. He sends out an alert to his team and heads to a briefing room.

It turns out that the notice was unnecessary. When he arrives, his team is sitting around the table waiting for him. They're the best crew in the fleet, why should he expect anything less? 

Spock offers a brief nod as he enters. Uhura’s deputy Neyren looks up a bit nervously, their fins fanning out into a formal attentive position. It had taken a while to convince the sometimes overly-formal Seytha linguist that they didn’t have to stand when he entered a meeting, and that Captain Kirk wasn’t going to take insult from being treated as a friend as well as a leader. The fourth member of the main group, Lieutenant Bethari Sudarto, the Indonesian woman who recently took over as head of Security, gives him a sharp salute, and he returns it with a smile. She’s muscled and intimidating and skilled in all sorts of martial arts, both Terran and alien, and she’s training her team to respond to anything. Jim watched some of their drills and he almost hopes some dumbass will try to attack them, just so he could see the look on their face when Sudarto takes them down.  

It’s a small team, which both Sudarto and Spock have raised questions about. They’ll have more people beam down after the initial negotiations, but both Uhura and Neyren have insisted on the number. The Treyessa in general, and especially the major ethnic groups represented in this meeting, would distrust a large group during the contracts and consider it a show of force. The dozen or so other people in the room will have to wait until the deal is sealed. 

“All right then,” Jim says, “I shouldn‘t have to go over what we’re doing today because you all know already, but Starfleet regulations say I do, so I’ll try to make this short. We want neodymium and platinum, they want high-efficiency engine components. Most of the deal has already been worked though, we’re just here to seal it up and make a good impression. Once that’s done, the rest of you will be free to beam down. On that note, I’ll hand this over to Lt. Neyren for some last-minute reminders on how to behave on the planet.” He nods at the Seytha, and they stand to talk.

“The Federation’s Treyessan contacts are from the Southern Alliance government, which comprises twenty-three clan cities...” They go on to list behaviors to expect and taboos to avoid. Jim glances at the seated group to make sure they’re listening. Just as Neyren is finishing up their speech, his padd chimes with a message: they’re ready to beam down. He nods to his team, and they head to the transporter room. 


	2. Chapter 2

This part of Treyessa is beautiful, Jim thinks, gazing up at the silvery geometric buildings that spiral into the sky, with their seemingly impossible structures held aloft by magnetic fields. Grass in various shades of blue and grey covers any open ground, not even ruffled by the vehicles flying overhead. He can see why Scotty’s minions–and they are Scotty’s minions, no doubt about it–in Engineering are so eager to get down to the surface. The city is a masterpiece of architecture. They take a few moments to look around, as they always do on a new planet, Spock no doubt deducing the exact mechanism used to control the magnetic fields, and Neyren spreading their fins to absorb the sunlight. Sudarto studies the various groups inside and outside the pavilion, preparing herself for any surprises. 

The pavilion set up for the conference is no less spectacular. The floor hovers a few inches off the ground, and high above them a tent hangs unsupported, filtering the light from the planet’s bright yellow sun. The Minister waves for them to enter, and Jim steps up into the pavilion, Spock at his side. Neyren follows a moment later, reluctantly leaving the warm sunlight. Sudarto takes a place right by the edge of the disk, where she can see both her captain and the delegates. She might not like being down here without her team, but Jim’s confident that she can handle anything that might go wrong. Anything that might go wrong… that’s not the best thing to be thinking about, but the Minister’s aides are already showing them to their seats and he’s got to focus on the mission at hand. A mission that would be a lot shorter if this was just them and the Treyessa. Instead, it’s a conference with dozens of other planets. The Treyessa have an unusual way of doing trade. Rather than working out and signing deals individually, they like to make tentative agreements that are sealed at a physical meeting with representatives from all groups. Spock has explained the benefit: the Treyessa can sometimes wrangle bonuses out of the delegates by appearing to refuse the agreement and threatening to send the party away empty-handed and embarrassed. It’s devious, and it takes way too much time for Jim’s liking.  

Finally, the introductions and small talk are over, and they’re led to their tables, Neyren reluctantly pulled from the conversation they’ve struck up with a gaggle of other translators. The Minister, on the raised central platform, stands to speak, and the conference begins. Just like most of the diplomatic events they’ve attended, there’s a lot of what Jim considers nonsense: traditional introductions and pointless discussion set in roundabout language. He’d make some sort of joke, if he wasn’t so certain that Spock would just look at him disapprovingly if he suggested that maybe every single detail of interplanetary politics wasn’t crucially important. After being the target of that look more than once, mostly whenever he gets distracted from some self-important governor or excessively long Starfleet briefing, he’s not going to mention it again. When he gets back to the ship, he can joke about the bullshit of the day to Sulu. His helmsman doesn’t take himself nearly as seriously as Spock and Uhura seem to all the time. Although he doesn’t ever want to get on anyone’s bad side–he’s seen how fierce his crew can be when given a reason.

But for now, the meeting. Somehow it’s even more boring than long hours on the bridge. At least there he feels like he’s in control of something. Well, it’s better than getting blown up, and he’s at least glad that everything seems to be going according to plan. 

The Minister waves a group of Treyessans in formal suits up onto the platform. One of them hands a data chip to the Minister’s clerk, and a few moments later a holographic presentation leaps into the air above them. Jim watches the animated statistics for a few moments before turning to Spock. “What’s this?”

“A promotion by the Southern Polar Metals Board in an attempt to persuade us to purchase their products. If you would consult the itinerary given to us...” Jim glares at him until he stops speaking. 

“I _looked_ at the schedule. _This wasn’t on it,_ ” he hisses, keeping his voice low to avoid angering the other delegates, but expressing his annoyance and impatience all the same.

“It has been updated, which is not unexpected, considering the methods of the Treyessan market.” Spock hands Jim his padd, and sure enough, the screen reads PRESENTATIONS BY LOCAL INDUSTRIES.    

“Sounds pretty fishy to me,” Jim grumbles, returning the device. Judging by the low murmur among the other attendees, they’re not too happy about this either. Neyren isn’t even bothering to explain the phrases the universal translator doesn’t catch. Up on stage, the metals merchants prattle on, extolling the quality of their goods. Jim might be able to strike a good bargain an has plenty of experience bartering for snacks and drinks and lab time at the Academy, but he’s no trader, and all this advertising is boring as hell. He vaguely wonders if his counterpart in that other universe had to deal with this much useless shit during his Captaincy. There wasn’t much to go on from the fragments of memory he got from the other Spock, steeped in that unforgettable sense of fondness and devotion. The other Captain Kirk was a man who inspired that sort of loyalty from his crew. The love... he pushes that from his mind, it’s too daunting a concept to consider when Spock is sitting right next to him. Besides, he thinks bitterly, the Jim that the other Spock loved probably never put his entire crew in danger and got dozens of people killed by being fucking stupid enough to trust an evil madman. The other Jim couldn’t have been that sort of person, the other Jim wouldn’t be reduced to a pathetic wreck by stupid simple dreams. And, fuck, there are the memories he doesn’t want to think about. That was embarrassing, he should have at least been able to cope with it alone. It’s a wonder anyone still respects him as Captain, really, a wonder the admirals haven’t yet labeled him unfit and pulled him from command, with all the ways he’s a total fuckup. 

His inattention must have become obvious, because he’s pulled back to the present by Spock saying, “Captain, the next portion of the conference is beginning.”

“Right.” He chooses to ignore the concern he can hear somewhere in that reminder. It’s not like he’s never gotten distracted before. He decides not to think about how incredibly easily his thoughts slipped away from business. Being stuck in bed for the better part of a year has probably eroded his patience. 

He glances at the metal sellers as they shuffle off to the edge of the pavilion, and then blinks, because one of them is staring right at him. The next moment the seller is deep in conversation with his fellows, and Jim turns his attention back to the screen because Starfleet’s contract is next to be discussed. 

 

~o~

 

After what feels like a lifetime of debate over a deal he’s certain was worked out way in advance, no matter how important the admirals made it out to be, they’re done. The Treyessan merchants have their engines promised, and Starfleet has their metals contracts. Just some diplomatic chatter left, and they can leave. The rest of their team beamed down as soon as the meeting ended and are currently engrossed in various discussions and studies.

Jim wanders around the tent. Neyren was perfectly happy to go back to talking excitedly to the other translators, and Spock is busy taking readings of the magnetic fields holding up the tent, a swarm of Enterprise scientists and engineers crowded around him. Sudarto hasn’t left her position, and is glaring around at the suddenly busy crowds of delegates and staff. It doesn’t seem very likely that someone would try to attack them at a trade meeting, but she’s paid to be vigilant. 

“Captain Kirk?” says a voice at his shoulder. It’s one of the Minister’s assistants. “Minister Yonda would like to speak with you regarding recent Klingon aggressions.”

He’s about to politely refuse on the grounds that Starfleet doesn’t allow captains to discuss political matters outside of political settings, but this couldn’t hurt and it might even help improve relations if he plays friendly.

The assistant leads him around the back of a building floating low to the ground. The tent is soon out of sight and Jim is beginning to wonder whether agreeing to talk was the best idea. No, he thinks, he wants to do this…

A few figures stand in the shadow behind the structure, and Jim has just enough time to register that the Minister’s not there before he finds that he cannot move another step. Alarm floods his mind, washing away any illusions of security. What the fuck is he doing? 

The figures step towards him, and that’s the metal merchant there next to two people of some species he doesn’t even recognize, and an Orion girl with a vicious grin, a humanoid wearing some sort of helmet with wires running across the surface and he’s frozen, staring at the man’s blank eyes. Then his brain is working rapid-fire like someone is pulling the thoughts from him: waking to Bones explaining the blood serum that saved him, Khan staring at them from within his prison as if he was the one in control, dropping Spock and the cold fusion device into the volcano at Nibiru, an old man on an icy planet showing him in a few intense moments of image and emotion a life lived in another universe, Bones injecting him with some crazy disease he’s never heard of, Gaila explaining how to hack into the Academy databanks… 

The feeling of someone rifling through his head turns without warning into an intense sensation of pressure and chaos that quickly threatens to become pain, then cuts off abruptly. Whatever force was holding him still breaks. He stumbles forward, nearly falling until Spock grabs his arm and steadies him. Jim wrenches his mind away from the past and blinks the flash of phaser fire from his eyes to see the blank-eyed man fall. Lieutenant Sudarto doesn’t even wait to see him hit the ground before taking out the rest of the group, most with shots from her phaser. One of the Treyessa resists the first strike but falls after a sharp punch to the head. Sudarto is surveying her targets when the blank-eyed man stirs. She shoots him again, then when she’s certain he’s either dead or knocked out, takes out her communicator and barks orders for them all to be beamed back.

 

~o~

 

Back on the ship, it’s organized chaos. They’ve been through so many emergency situations that the motions are familiar enough, but a surprise is still a surprise. Once the three of them are off the transporter pad, the techs being beaming back the rest of the team in twos and threes. Jim spots Neyren and Dr. Marcus among the returning crewmembers before he, Spock, and Sudarto are shuffled off into another room by a few other security agents. Jim suspects he’s going to have Bones up in his face with a tricorder at some point within the next few minutes, so he wants to make the most of the time. Sudarto’s ahead of him. 

“Okay, we need to figure out who the hell that was and what the hell they want.” She turns to him. “Captain, did you recognize any motive?”

“I dunno. The one with the white eyes did something that sorta stunned me. And then it felt like he was going through my head…” He runs a hand through his hair, remembering feeling like his own thoughts weren’t his to keep. He glances at Spock, hoping for an answer, and is surprised at how tense he looks. 

“He was using a form of distance telepathy to direct your thoughts and read those that came to the surface. When I intervened, he attempted to overload your brain, but I managed to divert and absorb the attack.”

“You diverted it onto _yourself_?” Jim yells, louder than he intended, and he’s struck by concern when Spock appears to flinch back from the volume. He looks a bit dazed and tired too, enough to be noticeable. 

“Are you all right?” he asks, more gently this time. 

“Do not be concerned; there are other matters at hand.” 

Even for Spock, that’s far from a straight answer. Now he’s certain something’s wrong. Spock’s probably messed up his head, taking a telepathic attack for Jim’s sake, and of course he wouldn’t admit to being anything less than fine even if he was dying, and especially not with anyone else in the room. He decides to wrap this up as quickly as he can.

“Lt. Sudarto, good work down there. You go ask around, see if anyone else saw anything. Spock, get checked out in Medical and then you can rest until we’ve organized the reports. We’ll regroup later. First, I need to speak to the Minister.”


	3. Chapter 3

As expected, Dr. McCoy is waiting for him when he steps out of the room. Jim submits to the examination, offering only a few sarcastic comments that the doctor returns with equally sharp replies. 

“Scan’s come up clean,” the doctor finally declares, “You got lucky, kid. Whatever happened hasn’t left any traces I can detect. Hold your horses, I’m not done yet!” he adds, as Jim tries and fails to walk away. “That’s physical. I’m suggesting that you–and by ‘suggesting’ I mean I’m gonna make sure you do–talk to Spock and M’Benga, ‘cause I don’t know much about the mental side of things. Telepathic voodoo’s not my area of expertise.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m concerned about. It felt like they wanted something from my mind, and whatever that attack was, Spock looked pretty shaken up. I told him to go see M’Benga.”

McCoy snorts. “I doubt he’s going to. Half the time he doesn’t even come in for regular examinations, what makes you think he’s going to get help when he needs it?”

“Bones, you know I can’t force him. Well, I could, but he’d be offended… I’m not going to do that. I was planning on checking up on him after I’m done with Minister Yonda.” It’s as good a time as any to change subjects, because for some reason Jim really doesn’t want McCoy asking about anything going on between him and Spock. “I hope _she_ knows something about what the hell happened down there.”

“Just don’t be too accusatory, Kirk,” And that’s Uhura. When did she get here? “Most likely, it was some splinter group or unaffiliated terrorist organization, not insiders. The Treyessa have never caused the Federation any problems before.”

“And I’m supposed to feel _better_ because it was terrorists who messed with my head, and not politicians?” 

She gives him a look. 

“Fine. I’ll play nice. Get the Minister on the screen.” He puts on his best Captain face and heads for the bridge.

 

~o~

 

“I assure you, Captain, we are putting our every effort into investigating this unfortunate and unforgivable incident. Those responsible will be found,” Minister Yonda says, her calm and professional image only slightly hampered by the view of people working franticly in the background.  

“I have a security force at this moment working with your people to ensure that, Minister.” He’d sent them down right before Uhura connected the call. 

“We regret any harm done to you. This will not be allowed to happen again.” On the screen, another aide steps into view beside the Minister, and leans down to whisper something in her ear. 

“Please excuse me a moment, Captain,” Yonda says, turning to listen to the assistant. Jim drums his fingers on the console, waiting. This is going more smoothly than he had expected, which probably means something’s going to go wrong before long. Yonda is handling the situation competently so far, at least. Jim’s sick of having to go through uncooperative aides to reach hostile leaders when crisis strikes, or even worse, leaders who play at simpering and apologetic yet are equally as unlikely to offer any help or reparation. 

Yonda turns back to face him. “Captain, I have received an update. The identification codes of a number of the presenters and attendees have been found to be either falsified or newly registered. Our security agents are currently tracing them. They will be questioned, and I will contact you as soon as we learn more about their identities or motives. We are also questioning all those who may have associated with the suspects.”

“Thank you, Minister,” Jim says crisply, and cuts the call. He comms his team down on the surface, hoping they’re having more luck actually catching people. 

“Have you found the assholes who tried to attack me?” This gets him a half-hearted glare from Uhura for the unprofessional language, but he doesn’t really care. The junior officer who picks up the call makes a hesitant sound, then says, “Captain, you’re not gonna want to hear this, but they’ve vanished!”

Shit.

“What do you mean? How have they vanished? You can’t find anything?”

“We think they beamed away. There’s no trace of anything out of the ordinary.”

“Keep looking. The Minister found some bad ID codes, maybe you can figure out what ships they came in on.”

“On it, sir,”

Now they’ve just got to wait. He hates this, the not knowing right after a crisis. when the bad guys–Uhura would roll her eyes at him for using that term–could be doing anything and he doesn’t even know what they want, much less who they are. He stares out at space for a few moments, thinking. In the calm, he begins to register a growing headache. But there’s not really a lot of pain, almost as if he’s imagining it. And he’s certain he’s not as tired as he suddenly feels. Damn, if those thugs screwed up his brain… He’s dealt with worse. Hell, he’s died. Gotta focus on the situation, make sure his ship and crew are safe. There’s a message on his padd from Scotty, timestamped from a few minutes ago, saying that they’ve gotten everybody back onboard and accounted for. No sign that anyone else was targeted, now that’s another bit of data to add to the “figuring out what the fuck just happened” pile. But if nobody else was harmed, that’s good news for sure, and he could always use good news. If only Spock was there to make some comment on the relative success of the mission, things would feel normal. He should make sure Spock’s not doing something stupid, like working instead of actually taking a break because he was just _telepathically attacked._ He should update Spock on the situation anyway, and with that thought, he leaves the bridge to Sulu. 

 

~o~

 

After nearly fifteen minutes of being lectured at by M’Benga regarding Vulcans and delicate neural pathways, with an additional rant from McCoy about mental pain control being no substitute for actual treatment and how his job would be so much easier if people stopped thinking they didn’t need to take care of themselves, he’s heading to Spock’s quarters with a hypospray of something he can’t pronounce but that should help, and a firm warning that Spock should rest for the remainder of the day or risk permanent damage to his mind. 

When he steps into the darkened room, he’s a little startled to see that for once he doesn’t have to tell Spock to stop working on something and go to bed. Jim would almost think he was sleeping, at first glance at least, but the tension and pain are far too clear.  

“Please do not turn on the light,” Spock says wearily, “I am finding the sensory stimuli… increasingly unpleasant.” That’s an understatement if anything, judging by the way he’s lying with an arm curled under his head, looking tense and miserable and exhausted. Jim wonders briefly how much of this could be considered his fault, and mentally recoils from the sting of guilt that thought brings with it. 

“Hey. How’re you doing?” he asks, as it the pain wasn’t obvious.

“I will be well in time. The effects are more severe than I had anticipated.” A pause. “My focus is disrupted. Meditation, and thus control of the symptoms, has proved impossible.”

“You didn’t go to Medical,” Jim says, keeping his voice low; M’Benga had said that migraine and weakened shields are the most common results of telepathic overload, and the last thing he wants to do now is make Spock’s condition worse.

“I found it more convenient to return here.”

“I figured.” He doesn’t have it in him to chastise Spock at the moment. “Hold still, I’m going to hypo you.” He does so, telling himself that he’s not a bit jealous of the way Spock doesn’t even flinch. A few moments later, and he’s rewarded when Spock finally relaxes, some of the tension draining away along with the pain.  

“That is… a significant improvement. Thank you, Jim.” 

He smiles. “It’s not actually a good idea to totally ignore a doctor, okay? Pisses them off. Trust me, I know.” The fact that Spock is ignoring his own health is also dangerous and doesn’t seem at all logical, but Jim’s not going to argue now. At some point he’ll bring it up, but not now.

“Doctor McCoy has a habit of interpreting an undue number of my actions as antagonistic.” 

“He does that for everyone.” After three years at the Academy with him, Jim is used to the doctor’s gruff treatment of almost the entire universe. He knows it’s mostly well-meant, a way of showing affection with the added benefit of scaring away idiots. 

“What is the status of the investigation?” Spock asks. Of course he’d be right back to business.

“We don’t know much yet,” Jim tells him, trying to reign in his frustration. “They got away, but the Minister found some phony ID codes and they’re questioning people.”

“I regret that I cannot be of more assistance…”

“Stop that, you did a lot. Saved me, for a start.” The last thing he needs is Spock feeling guilty about any of this, or worse, trying to work in his current condition. “We just have to wait.” He’d like to complain about that, but he’s not selfish enough to bother Spock about something they can’t change. “You need to actually sleep, got it? Meditation isn’t enough.” 

“Understood, Captain.” 

Yeah, he probably deserved that one. But Spock recovering his interesting sense of humor is a very good sign. Jim only hopes the rest of their problems can be solved as easily. 

 

~o~

 

“Any news?” Jim asks, dropping back into his chair. A quick scan of the alert console reveals nothing.

“Not yet, sir,” Sulu reports. “We’re still waiting on the Minister.” 

They only have to wait a few minutes before the call comes through. This time, it’s not the Minister but another Treyessan wearing a uniform that would be recognized as military on any planet. She introduces herself as the head of the security force, and in charge of the investigation. 

“We have not yet found any of the criminals, however, one of their accomplices has come forward,” she says. The crew on the bridge exchange hopeful looks.

“What have you learned?” Jim prompts.

“The criminals are information traders who were looking for industry secrets. They promised the Polar Metals Board insider information on their competitors in exchange for allowing their agents to enter today’s conference in disguise, and bribed the organizers to schedule a last-minute presentation. Many of their agents are telepathic and the attention gave them the opportunity to look for targets among the attendees.”

Certain things are starting to make a terrifying sort of sense. 

“And for some reason they found me interesting.” 

“That appears to be the case.” The Treyessan falters a moment. “Again, we apologize for the incident-“

“I’ve heard it.” It’s not the time for that. “Does your suspect know anything else? And who is it?”

“An assistant to the Polar Metals staff, who handled the records for the illegal meetings and overheard several other discussions. He offers this information in exchange for leniency from the charges that will no doubt be brought against the conspirators. I have told you all we know.”

“Do you have these illegal records?” If there’s any chance they could learn who their enemy is, that would be it.

“No. They were destroyed by the criminals’ allies when we started our investigation into the Polar Metals group.”

“And the people who made this deal with the criminals?”

“Escaped alongside them. We have no other leads.”

It’s not much to go on, but it’s a start, Jim thinks after he ends the call. 

“They got away. We could still be in danger,” he says, thinking out loud in the hope that a solution will come to him. What do they want? Something in his mind attracted them. If he had to make an assumption as to what spies like that would want, he’d think it was the usual Starfleet intel, classified missions and technology. Starfleet is no stranger to spies. But there wasn’t any of that in the images they pulled from his head. Cheating on the Kobayashi Maru, the mission at Nibiru, that’s old news. Those might once have been secrets, but they’re not anymore, so they can’t be of any use to spies. The older Spock from that other universe… 

And then he realizes. They want to know about the future.  


	4. Chapter 4

The emergency report Jim and Sudarto send to Starfleet gets a terse response: they’re to remain in orbit over Treyessa until the Admirals back on Earth can assess the threat. He expects that to take at least until the next day Earth-time, which leaves them waiting the night both ship-time and on the planet. It’s typical Starfleet bureaucracy that leaves Jim feeling useless and impatient. While those spies could be doing anything, plotting anything, he has to wait around doing nothing. It also doesn’t help that he’s never slept well when there’s unfinished business or something threatening him, a leftover trait from working long nights to pass too many classes with top scores, and long before that, from keeping out of his stepfather’s reach when things got dangerous. And it usually comes in handy in situations where he can do something useful, when there’s paperwork to be done– not that he considers paperwork useful, but Starfleet Command won’t take that for an answer. 

Working usually helps with the stress. But here, he’s done all he can before the bigwigs back home in their comfortable safe offices get to it. 

At least if he’s not sleeping it means he can’t fall back into the nightmares.

With sleep clearly not an option, he tries to find something else to do. Maybe a few years ago he would play computer games or read some guys’ magazine to pass the time, but he doesn’t feel like doing any of that, and not even the old books he kept hidden in his room at the Academy– McCoy never got tired of laughing at him for reading centuries-old classics _and_ on paper– can hold his attention for any length of time. He considers porn for a moment, but, well, he’d rather not be doing anything like that if they get a call earlier than expected. And it’ll feel sort of wrong to be jerking off while his friends might be in danger. 

He runs over the situation in his head for what feels like the millionth time. Telepathic spies just happened to be at that meeting? Or were they following him? Somehow they saw that he knew about a parallel universe, used mental influence to trap him, and tried to take the information. Spock stopped them, but they got away and are probably looking to learn more. So they’re probably going to try to capture him again, because the only other person who knows about the other Spock is the old Vulcan himself– Fuck. If they capture the Ambassador, they could learn everything. And there’s nobody else he can talk to, not with his Spock out of commission for the time being. He’d been a bit surprised to learn that his Spock had met his counterpart, and more surprised when the universe didn’t suddenly cease to exist because of it. 

But there is no one _else_ who knows. Well, there is Scotty. His advice would be as good as anything else Jim can find at this point, so he goes down to Engineering to find the man. Scott tends to work odd hours, as the ship needs it, and Jim knows he’d never in his life give up the chance to run some experiments while they were stuck in orbit. With any luck, he’ll find some way to increase their efficiency or warp speed and impress the shipbuilders back home. Jim loves when that happens. It makes him feel like the flagship really is on the cutting edge of science and exploration. 

The ship never sleeps, so even though the ‘night’ shift is quieter than the rest, there’s still constant activity. He passes a group of scientists and engineers working together on a half-dissected computer console, giving them an approving nod and smile. A few of the newest crewmembers salute him before going back to their project, causing the people who know Jim a bit better to laugh quietly. 

It takes a while, but he eventually finds his Chief Engineer examining some sort of robotic device that’s obviously been built out of spare parts, arguing loudly with Keenser and Chekov about it, gesturing emphatically with a reel of wire.

“Ah, Captain!” Scotty calls out in greeting. “Would you mind explaining to the lads why their project here isn’t nearly ready for testing?”

Chekov begins to protest this, but Jim interrupts. “When have you ever tested things properly? I need to talk to you.” Scotty nods and tells the other to “run along,” earning a pouting glare from Chekov and a vaguely annoyed look from Keenser as the two gather their robot and leave, probably to go to on of the labs to continue building. For a moment, Jim wants to tell Chekov that he should go to bed instead of working all night, but he figures he really has no right to. 

“Aye Captain, what’s on your mind?” 

“You remember Delta Vega?”

“Of course I do. You don’t abandon a fellow on a ice planet without any food without leaving an impression.” Luckily, he doesn’t go off on a rant about Admiral Archer and dogs and unfair punishment.

“Those spies. They want information they can sell. I think they’re going to go after the Spock from the future.”

“That’s a risk. But I think the old man can take care of himself, Captain. And he wouldn’t want you to worry about him, I can tell you that. But if you’re really all that worried about it, you can drop him a message.”

 Yes. That’s exactly what he should do— why didn’t he think of it before?

“You’re right. I’ll do that.” He turns to leave, and then looks back. “And, Scotty, what _is_ that thing they’re working on?”

“Automatic sandwich transportation!” Scotty declares, grinning. It’s far from the strangest thing the man’s ever come up with, so Jim leaves it at that. 

 

~o~

 

He returns to his quarters to find a call waiting for him. For a second, he hopes it’s the old Spock, but of course there’s no reason why it should be. He taps the screen and leans back in his chair to watch. And sits back up again when a white-eyed figure appears on the screen. It’s not the same person who attacked him, but certainly the same species, maybe even the same family.

“Greetings, Captain Kirk. I am Mela Keset, chief agent of Freedom of Thought.”

Well, now they have a name to their opponents. Typical terrorist self-flattery. Jim glares, but he’s not about to be caught off guard. He keys in the sequence to track the transmission—and nothing happens. Keset looks at something off-screen.

“No, Captain, that’s not going to work,” he says, in that quiet tone made all the more disturbing by its apparent nonchalance. 

“What is it you want? I’m not going to let you hurt my crew, or anyone on the planet, you got that?” 

Keset goes on as if he hasn’t spoken. “While I’m afraid our first meeting may not have been under ideal circumstances, I believe we can offer you something to your benefit.”

“No. I’m not working with you.” Do they really think he’s just going to agree?

Keset makes a sound that might be a laugh. “No, Captain, you misunderstand. You have already played your part. All I wish to do is repay you, an exchange for your most generous assistance. My associates can offer you any knowledge you seek. The battle plans of your enemies, perhaps. Or-“

He’s had enough. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to bargain with you.” There’s no way he’s going to fall for this.

“Your superiors apparently do not hold the same opinion.” _What the hell?_

“My- you know what, I’m not listening anymore. I’m not going to agree to anything. Threaten me if you’re going to, or get out.” 

“I will give you time to reconsider, Captain,” Mela Keset says simply, and the screen goes blank. 

Jim does a quick search on the computers for Mela Keset and Freedom of Thought, but gets nothing. Odd, for self-proclaimed information traders. But then, if they would go to such measures as _stealing thoughts from his mind,_ they’re obviously some sort of underground terrorist organization.  

He wonders if this happened in that other universe, and remembers what he was going to do. He sends a call to New Vulcan, hoping he’s not catching the Ambassador in the middle of the night.  

Fortunately, when the old Vulcan appears on screen, there’s enough light coming through the windows behind him for Jim to judge it’s somewhere around mid-morning. 

“Jim. This is unexpected. Are you well?” It still feels strange, sometimes, to know that people care about him.

“I’m fine. Thanks to you. You’re fine too, just a bit out of it…” He decides to get right to the point. “Listen, we ran into some telepathic creeps calling themselves Freedom of Thought.” There’s the eyebrows, and Jim almost laughs at the familiarity. “They didn’t get much, but I think they know about you and-“

“They accessed your mind without your knowledge, without your consent?” Spock asks, in a tone so serious it chills. 

“I-“ and he _does not like_ that implication, or the feeling of violation it brings up, the feeling that he’s been trying to ignore ever since they got back on the ship. “That doesn’t matter. If they come after you…”

“I assure you, I am safe. Do not concern yourself. There are more pressing matters at hand. Jim, if you experience any ill effects from this interference, you must promise me you will seek out a Vulcan healer.” Typical Spock. It does nothing for Jim’s patience. 

“Fine. Sure. Yes, I will. Look, do you know these people? Did this happen in—you know, to you? To him?” 

There is a long pause, the silence stretching out almost long enough for Jim to begin to wonder if he’s said something wrong. 

“Understand me when I say I cannot tell you your future," the elder Spock says, a faint reproach in his voice, "for to do so would risk not only the integrity of this universe, but would compromise your free will, take from you the powers of choice and self-determination.” 

Jim sighs; he doesn’t want to deal with philosophical complications right now. “Just tell me if you know these people.” _And stop looking at me like that,_ he thinks, even as he hates himself for the sentiment. _It’s bad enough I have to live up to one dead man._

He’s expecting another subtle reprimand, but a familiar gleam comes into the old man’s eyes and he says, _“_ Our universes have diverged far enough that even if I did know of this organization, my knowledge would be of little help.”

He’s not hiding anything, this time. He really doesn’t seem to know.

“So there’s nothing?”

“I will not be your oracle, James,” Spock says, in a tone that allows no argument. And Jim accepts it.

“Thanks. We’ll… get through this. You always did, so, I mean, we’ve got a pretty good chance.” It’s a lame line, but if Spock doesn’t know anything and wouldn’t even tell if he did, there’s little else to say. Spock inquires a little more about the mission and they talk for a while before signing off. As the screen goes blank, Jim leans back and wonders what in hell he’s going to do next. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I still exist. If anyone's still reading this, thanks for staying with me. And please comment if you're interested in the story so I know people are actually reading. It would help me get new chapters out at a reasonable pace! Now that I've gotten over the block that trapped me in this chapter, I should be able to keep going. (Oh, and don't worry about Spock. He'll be back in action next chapter)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reward for sticking with me, here's an extra long chapter.

The Admiralty contacts them early the next morning—not that it feels like morning, because Jim had spent the rest of the night getting together a report on Mela Keset’s message, and then finishing the report that he would have filed if shit hadn’t gone down on the planet. He’ll pay for not sleeping later, he knows, but hopefully by then they’ll be out of danger. Them, and the Ambassador, and Treyessa, and Earth… 

He considers that this is the point where McCoy or Spock or someone would tell him that protecting the entire universe isn’t his responsibility, and he’d respond that it didn’t look like anybody else was willing to take on the job. Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t have a personal problem with these people. Most of the telepathic species in the Federation have strict codes of ethics about their abilities, Vulcans most of all. Still, it took time for humans to get over the fear of someone else having the ability to read their minds. And even now, the idea of telepathic spies makes Jim uneasy in some instinctive way. If they’re going to face them again, he should talk to Spock, his Spock, see if there’s any method of shielding that would work against another invasion of his mind. If he’s recovered enough, that is. Spock’s never even missed a shift before; Jim has no idea how long it would take him to overcome whatever happened on the planet. M’Benga had said it shouldn’t be more than a day, but he had looked pretty bad when Jim saw him, and that’s saying something, given how much Spock normally tries to hide any sort of suffering, pretend nothing’s wrong even when it would be far better—and logical, Jim thinks— to accept help.  

He just hopes this whole thing doesn’t get any worse. It’s one thing when he’s in danger, but when it’s his crew… that’s different. That’s serious. 

 

~o~

Some of the stress is lifted, at least, when he walks onto the bridge to find Spock standing there as usual as if he hadn’t spent the last day totally out of commission because of some creeps they still know next to nothing about. Jim smiles at him, but gets nothing more than a nod in response. And then it’s time to talk to the big guns. 

Admiral Rankin appears on the screen, and Jim suppresses an annoyed huff. If anyone’s likely to make this even more of a mess, it’s him. He’s already tried to blame Jim for any number of incidents. And he’s one of those people who always looks for the military solution first, something Jim can’t respect. 

“Well, Kirk, I hear you’ve gotten yourself into trouble again,” Rankin says by way of greeting. It’s with some effort that Jim politely replies, “Admiral. We request your assistance with-“

“You ran into Mela Keset’s people, yes, I know, I read the report. There’s nothing for you to do. Continue with your orders. We need you at Dirbanu in two weeks…” What? No, this can’t be right. 

“Sir,” Jim interrupts, “We’ve just encountered a spy ring, surely we’ve got to stop them.” He realizes that Spock has moved to stand next to him, and that the rest of the bridge crew is staring in confusion at Rankin.

“Follow your orders, Kirk.”

“With all due respect, Admiral, these people are dangerous! Spock nearly died stopping them reading my mind-”

“Captain, the risk to my person was not nearly so great as to–“  
Jim waves a hand to quiet him. “Not the point, Spock.” He looks back at the Admiral.

“Dangerous, Kirk? So’s that ship you’re commanding. These “spies”, as you call them, happen to be Starfleet’s best source of intelligence on the Klingon Empire.”

“ _What!?_ You’ve _hired_ these bastards?” First Marcus trying to start a war with the Klingons, now this, what’s happening in Starfleet?

Rankin is unmoved by this outburst. “If you’re going to survive in this universe, you’ve got to make use of all the resources available,” he replies calmly. 

“And do you spy on our allies as well?!” Jim is on his feet now, seething with outrage. 

“Watch your tone, boy.” Beside him Jim feels Spock tense at the blatant disrespect. “We do what we must. We pay them, and they tell us what the Klingons are plotting. Better than risking our own agents.” This just isn’t adding up, it doesn’t make sense. 

“How can you trust them? How do you know they’re not double agents? There’s got to be a better way to get information. Starfleet can’t allow this.”

“Still an idealist, after all you’ve seen?” Rankin sniffs. “You’re not going to get anywhere if you limit yourself like that.” The admiral sighs. “You know what… Spock, maybe you’ll understand. It’s logical to make use of them, surely you can appreciate that.”

Spock doesn’t even hesitate. “No. Whether it is logical or not is irrelevant; it is unethical. Their methods are invasive and cruel, and their motivations purely in their own self-interest. I cannot approve of your association with them.”

“I’m not going to listen to this. Set your course for Dirbanu. Another word about spies and I’ll court-martial you both. Am I understood?”

“Understood, sir,” Jim says, biting down on the rest of his protests, and the connection ends. There’s a moment when they’re all still frozen in disbelief. Then, “Okay,” he says, turning to Spock, “What _the fuck_ was that?”

“A most… unexpected response,” Spock says, sounding about as confused as everybody else. “How can they _possibly_ be working with those guys?” Jim demands of the room at large. “He must be out of his mind, trusting those creeps—oh, _fuck,”_ There’s a very good possibility Rankin actually _is_ out of his mind, if he’s been dealing with unscrupulous telepaths. How much damage have they done? Spock has evidently made the same connection, because he says, “Captain, we should discuss this. If Starfleet security has been compromised, immediate action must be taken.”

“Agreed,” Jim says, slipping back into professionalism. He orders his crew to set a course for Dirbanu and gives Sulu command. There’s no use angering Rankin further by disobeying while they figure this out. Besides, Dirbanu is closer to New Vulcan than Treyessa, so that would be at least convenient if… if anything happens. Jim heads to one of the smaller briefing rooms, Spock following at his side.

 

~o~

 

“We don’t know where they are or what they’re up to or what information they’ve stolen from Starfleet already.” Jim underscores this with an angry wave of his arm. “Hell, at this point Starfleet probably _gave_ them the information. _Damn_ Rankin, what’s even going on with our admirals? Are they _all_ going to end up being bad guys?” If Spock finds this a bit overdramatic, as Jim has to admit it probably is, he doesn’t comment.

“You believe they will target my alternate self,” Spock says.

“How did you-"

“I received a communication from him earlier this morning. He expressed concern regarding your mental wellbeing.”

“He thinks I can’t take care of myself. Great. That’s just great.” He’s not a boy, he’s a grown man and he’s survived worse than this, why does everybody seem to think he can’t do anything on his own?

“He said no such thing. Only that these are unusual circumstances and care must be taken. You must be prepared in case these people should again attempt to gain access to your memories.” 

“But what if they go after him? And we know they have at least Rankin under their control, what else would they want from me?”

 “It is better to be prepared. I recommend that I teach you how to shield your thoughts from intruders.”

“That’s weird. I was going to suggest that. Great minds think alike, I guess.” Spock blinks at him, and stares intently for a moment before saying, “…Yes. I suppose.”

“We will begin with meditation,” Spock says, and Jim resists rolling his eyes. They’ve tried this already, during his recovery, but he could never hold enough focus for long. It was just too hard to concentrate on nothing. A bit of coding or an exam or a real-life situation, sure, but just sitting there? Well, he has to try. 

There’s a few quiet rooms on one of the housing/recreation decks, so they head there, passing an engineer packing up xir tools after fixing something or another. Xe salutes as they pass, and Jim gives xir a friendly nod in return. That’s a constant, at least, even when it feels like flying right into hell, his crew and ship still work seamlessly. 

They arrive, and Spock begins explaining what Jim’s heard so many times before to no effect. He sits and closes his eyes, and hopes that maybe this time will be different.  

 

 

~o~

 

He’s dying again. Feeling everything again. The pain and the fear…

Something is wrong, something is so horribly wrong, they are wearing unfamiliar uniforms and Jim knows his Enterprise does not look like this and he is unhurt but Spock is on the other side of the glass, burned and dazed and dying, reaching for a contact and comfort he cannot have, body and mind and soul trapped, and it was not supposed to be like this–-no, it was always supposed to be like this-–and there is fear, and so much more than that there is sorrow, and then he is alone, so alone, and screaming his grief and rage… and this time it’s not Khan threatening him but Nero:  _you will watch helplessly as everything you love dies._

And then there’s another voice: 

 

**_Jim_** _/Captain - forgive me the intrusion -_ ** _you are dreaming_** _/remembering?/illusion -_ ** _safe_** _\- I see this - what/when/how is this? - unfamiliar but familiar - we never saw/experienced this - is this his past? - not real/not present -_ ** _let me help you wake_**  

 

_Spock - what/how - is that you - I can hear/feel/understand you_

 

And then he’s awake, and why is he sitting on the floor—meditation, right, he must have fallen asleep—and Spock is right in front of him looking at him with obvious concern.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” he gasps. Spock flinches back, such an unusual reaction for him that Jim’s attention is, for a moment, diverted.

“I apologize,” Spock says quickly, “You were- I could not wake you. I promise you I did not access any deeper thoughts-“

“No, not you, not that,” Jim reassures him. _You were afraid,_ he realizes. “Thank you for that, you understand? But _what was I seeing?_ ” He gets to his feet, and Spock stands along with him.

“I believe you were witnessing events from the Ambassador’s timeline. From what he was willing to tell me, his version of the confrontation with Khan was… somewhat different from our own.” 

Jim grumbles something about the Spocks collaborating behind his back. 

“It appears that his meld with you left behind several of his own memories and those of your counterpart. The psychic assault perpetrated by the Freedom of Thought agents must have influenced these so that they are now accessible to your subconscious.” There’s an undercurrent of distaste there, but whether it’s aimed at the Ambassador or the spies, or both, Jim does not know.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.” This is even worse than he’d imagined. He’d thought that by getting away from them he would at least be safe in his own head, but if he’s dreaming about another universe… “What the hell is wrong with me? Maybe they were right, back on Earth, maybe I shouldn’t have gotten command again if this shit is what’s going to happen…”

“Captain, you have passed every aptitude test Starfleet assigned, and several they did not. You have been deemed physically and mentally fit. There is no reason to doubt this.” Jim wants to believe him.

“Only the fact that my own head wants to kill me! And then I can’t even get meditation right! I go and fall asleep while trying to do something so fucking basic. Didn’t you notice?”

“I did not think it prudent to wake you. You have not slept; you require rest.” And there’s that warm feeling again, really, he shouldn’t be having so much of a reaction to Spock’s concern for him, but this isn’t the time to think about that.

“I wish that was all this was, I really do,” Jim sighs. “So what are we gonna do?”

“You must send the Ambassador another message, appraise him of the situation.”

No, he can’t do that. From even that brief glimpse of the elder Spock’s mind Jim knows what the old man will think if he tells him that the meld had resulted, even indirectly, in this. He can’t add to all that guilt and responsibility.

“He can’t know, Spock. He’d blame himself,” Jim says, then adds quietly, “He already does, for Vulcan.”

“That would be irrational. There is no reason for him to think himself responsible for our circumstances.”

Jim just shakes his head. “You weren’t inside his head.”

But Spock isn’t convinced. “He insisted that he be informed if anything of this sort were to happen. Would you refuse to honor that?” And that particular look, Jim knows, means he won’t settle for anything less than agreement. Yes, it’s one of the First’s duties to second-guess the Captain when he’s doing something questionable, but why does Spock need to be so persistent about it? It’s logical, it’s sensible, but Jim still doesn’t want to tell the old man that he’s inadvertently hurt him… He turns away, presses a hand to his head. He can deal with a few visions, right?

“If I tell him… and then what? And then what do we do after that?” He looks back, just as Spock steps closer. 

“I expect he will contact a healer, who will then remove the imparted memories. Until then, this will likely hinder any further attempts at meditation.” There’s an uncertain pause, as if Spock is deciding whether or not to go on. “As a temporary measure, I can construct a shield to protect your thoughts from outside attack, and, though I am uncertain as to the effectiveness of such an attempt, possibly restrain the foreign memories.” Another pause. Spock meets Jim’s eyes before continuing, “It would require a full meld. I understand you may not wish it, and if so I will not push the matter further.”

A full meld… There’s a growing part of Jim that’s always been curious about that, about how that would feel with _his_ Spock. But the idea that Spock’s only doing this because Jim can’t do it himself rankles. And the longer he waits the more small fears drift to the surface- what if Spock finds something dark and terrible in his head? What if- But they’ve been through this before, and he trusts Spock.  

“Do you permit it?” Spock asks him. He takes a breath.

“Yes. Go ahead.”

 

~o~

 

It’s _strange_ , having Spock in his head, but it’s not at all bad, and this time he’s not dreaming or frantic with fear, so he can actually pay attention to the sensation.

_Your thoughts/mindscape/_ ** _you_** _are unusually/extremely appealing/fascinating/beautiful,_ he hears, and is that emotion woven into the words wonder? Affection? 

_You sound different from last time,_ Jim questions.

_Communication through a partial meld is more fragmented,_ is Spock’s answer.

_I like this way of talking._

_It can be more than simply words,_ Spock says, and demonstrates, explaining in a rush of images and sensations the process of forming a shield, before beginning to form it. His presence brushes against _something,_ and Jim is suddenly aware of a something he can feel in his head that he’s sure wasn’t there before. But then everything’s been different since he died and maybe it had been hiding… oh, god, is it a part of Khan? But a wash of calm and reassurance from Spock gives him the courage to look closer. He toys with it in his mind as Spock observes. And then he feels Spock’s surprise, and a rush of warmth and joy and… love? 

_A bond,_ Spock supplies, and that’s… a hint of possessiveness? Jim questions, barely paying attention for all the wonder of this bright thing. Spock explains the connection with a burst of knowledge, teaching him in an instant about this aspect of Vulcan culture and what it means. That the bond had formed between them, at first too faint to notice, and then grown until the meld allowed it to complete the link.

_This certainly explains a lot,_ Jim thinks, remembering how oddly aware of each other they’ve been. 

_Indeed it does_.

_If you liked me so much, you could have just asked._ Jim infuses this with humor, and Spock responds with warmth and amusement. _I believe I will_.  

After what feels like an ageless time, Spock finishes the shield and breaks the meld. But the bond remains, warm and bright, radiating feelings of _we are together_ and _I will keep you safe._

“This is… this is incredible,” Jim says, and experimentally pushes his own thoughts of love across the bond. He wonders how long it’s been since he felt this good, and realizes that he probably never has. If this lasts…

_I will not leave you,_ he feels, and he smiles towards Spock. 

He’s brought sharply back to anxious reality by the sound of his communicator. It’s Uhura. Fuck, fuck, this can only be something bad…

“Captain, I just received a message from the Vulcan colony.” Alarm spikes in him, and more faintly from the other side of the bond. “It’s the Ambassador’s office- they’re saying he’s missing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was Chapter Hella Plot Twist. We’re not nearly done yet. Good job if you got the three references! Admiral Rankin is a reference to Captain Rankin from the Temeraire series, who is just as much of a jerkass as you’d expect (also prissy, rude, abusive, and racist, but that’s another story). Dirbanu is a reference to the planet in Theodore Sturgeon’s (aka the writer of Shore Leave and Amok Time) short story The World Well Lost, which is known for being the first science fiction story with positive gay characters. (Look it up, you can find it online) And “Do you permit it?” is a reference to Grantaire and Enjolras’s deaths in Les Miserables.  
> What do you think of the story so far?


	6. Chapter 6

This is bad. Fuck, this is bad. If Freedom of Thought has the Ambassador, if they’ve got all of the elder Spock’s knowledge from his universe, then… Jim can hardly imagine what sort of chaos that could lead to. What sort of ransoms these thieves could demand, with the futures of whole worlds able to be sold or changed at their will. He vaguely considers throwing the communicator at something, but instead replies, “Got it. We’re coming over. Ask what else they know,” as he and Spock start heading for the bridge.

“Shit. I _knew_ this would happen. What are we going to do? They could be planning anything!” Jim tries not to snap at Spock, or at any inanimate objects, but there’s nothing he hates like a crisis that he can’t do anything about.

“I would remind you that the Ambassador is fully capable of defending his own mind, if indeed this organization has captured him.” 

He tries to remind himself that Spock’s cool response doesn’t mean he isn’t just as alarmed by this turn of events as Jim is.

“We’ve still got to get him back.”

By the time they get to the bridge, there’s already a connection open to the Vulcan colony. A harried-looking Andorian who introduces shenself as a secretary is standing in the middle of a ransacked office that Jim recognizes from previous calls with the old Ambassador. There’s glass on the floor, books, dust, broken items that must once have been beautiful, and it hurts to think that the old man has had his one home in this universe ruined, but that’s something to think about later. Right now… they have to find Spock.

The secretary’s antennae are flicking in agitated patterns, punctuating shens nervous speech. “They entered by force. Two figures with white eyes, and an Andorian. They would have attacked me too, but that one told them to spare me.” Shen wrings shens hands and shens antennae move faster. “I couldn’t move to defend the Ambassador. I tried to move, but they were holding me down. I couldn’t do anything against it. It was something telepathic, something strong, but I couldn’t recognize what it was.”

So whatever they do, however they work, it’s nothing standard to Vulcan or Andorian telepathy. Jim nods. “They did that to me,” he says, hoping to calm the secretary enough that shen can continue. Something doesn’t seem quite right about this, but then, nothing’s right at the moment.   

“He was able to fight them for a while, and keep them away, but then the two with white eyes did something together that knocked him unconscious. After that, they did it to me too. I didn’t see what happened. When I woke up all of them were gone.” 

****“Did they leave any message?” Jim hopes for a ransom, a boast, a clue. Anything to help them find Freedom of Thought, find these criminals and free the older Spock before they could hurt him or use what they learned from him to hurt anybody else.

“No. They said they would do that themselves.” Shit. That means nothing, no leads, no clues, no traces… Wait. Something’s not right.

“When did they say that? Were they talking to you before they knocked you out?”

The secretary hesitates. “I don’t… they were… ” and then the connection breaks, and when the screen clears the office on New Vulcan is replaced by the victorious face of Mela Keset.  

****“So you have heard of our success, then, Captain? You were of great use to us,” he sneers, and the expression in his blank eyes is clearly one of cruel triumph.

“What do you want?” Maybe they can make a trade, maybe they can lure them out and capture them. Something tells him that the Ambassador would protest him coming to rescue him, but Jim will never leave someone when he can save them. Those creeps got the information from his head, after all, so in some way he must be to blame for this disaster. And he will set it right.

“We want what you know,” Mela Keset says.

“What do you mean?” Jim narrows his eyes- wasn’t it the older Spock they had been after? Wasn’t that the reason they’d attacked him on Treyessa?

“We’re working on the old man,” Keset continues, and then the sneer takes on a new character. “He’s near to breaking, and his pain is _delicious_ , so enjoyable.”

Jim clenches his fist, tries to think through the rage. _No._ They can’t be torturing Spock. But if they are- he’d never give anything up. He’d die before letting them learn anything.

“But he isn’t enough.” Mela Keset says, bringing Jim back to the present. “We need more. Even so, we do have some things. For instance, we know all of the colony’s weaknesses. He was so instrumental in building it, and now he will help us destroy it.” 

“You’re lying.” Jim accuses. The Ambassador couldn’t have told them that. That can’t even be true. The colony wouldn’t be so vulnerable. It has to be a ruse, a trap… but those white eyes reveal nothing.

“Of course, we don’t _have_ to do anything to the colony. There’s nothing we need there. We could instead, maybe, destroy that ship of yours. Your researchers and doctors, now, they might have something useful in their heads.” 

“No. You will never hurt them. My crew are under my protection,” Jim declares, nearly shaking, eyes blazing. There’s no way Keset’s people will ever get his hands on Jim’s people. 

“So you say. If you were to go in their place, though, that would serve us very well indeed.” 

“Captain,” Sulu announces suddenly, “I’m reading weapons traces in the vicinity. They’re approaching us. Fast.”

“These are wery bad. I have not seen anything like these before,” Chekov adds.

“Do you still doubt we have the power to enforce our threats?” Keset taunts.

“He’s not bluffing, sir,” Sulu says after another few moments. “He can do everything he says.”

Damn. There must be some way to stop this, some way to fight them…

“What is your decision, Captain?” Keset asks, too soon, “Shall we scavenge from your people, or will you take their place?”

“I’ll do it,” Jim says, and braces himself for the inevitable argument. 

“I protest this, Captain,” Spock says, as Jim knew he would. The rest of the bridge fills with loud agreement.

“I’ll get out of it. I always do.”

“You _cannot, Jim. They will destroy you.”_ The intensity is frightening, but Jim can’t listen to it now.

“I have to. Or they’re going to attack everybody down there, and everybody up here.” He gives a bitter smile. “Needs of the many, Spock. I can’t let them get hurt. And maybe I’ll fight my way out.” 

 

~o~

 

He counters every one of Spock’s protests, and everybody else’s even when the pain he feels through their new bond is so strong he has to turn away. This is his job- to protect the people under his command. And if this is the only way to do it, this is what has to be done. Maybe some other answer will come to light soon, maybe he’ll find a way to escape. He has to. Even if it means saving them, he doesn’t plan to die here. There will be a way.

The arrangements don’t take long. Freedom of Thought’s ship is already drawing up close, and Mela Keset demands he beam onboard alone. 

He emerges into the transport bay of a too-bright ship, with guards all around him. Some are species he recognizes, some are not. And once again he finds he cannot move from where he stands.

A man with white eyes- not Mela Keset, but possessing the same cold and cruel stare- does something Jim can’t see, but can sense even so. Pain explodes in his head, and then the world goes dark around him.

 

~o~

 

Jim has left them, given himself up to Freedom of Thought as a hostage in exchange for the lives of the Ambassador and those of the crew of the Enterprise. Some might call it a favorable exchange, Spock thinks, but he cannot see losing someone so dear as in any way favorable. That is before he considers what Freedom of Thought might do with the information they extract from his captain, the other people they will menace and threaten for more knowledge to sell. 

He has command now, and he has commanded they wait. Wait for news, or wait for Freedom of Thought to put down their guard enough so that a rescue operation can be mounted. They must not be allowed to keep Jim any longer than necessary. 

An alert sounds. “Another call from the Vulcan colony,” Nyota announces. “Maybe they’re found more information.” 

Spock orders the message displayed, and the Ambassador’s ruined office comes into view. And standing in the middle of the frame is the old Vulcan himself.

Not kidnapped by criminals, not imprisoned or injured or anything of the sort. How? How can this be? Spock is trying to think through his surprise, take in and process the new information, run the possibilities, when his alternate self speaks.

“ _Enterprise_ , what are you doing? I am unharmed. My assistant is… distressed, to say the least, but we are safe, as is the colony.”

“What? You haven’t been kidnapped by terrorists?” Doctor McCoy interjects, not the most intelligent of questions but likely the only thing on his his mind at the moment.

“Evidently not. I assure you, If I were to be attacked, I can defend myself.”

“So what _happened_?” Nyota demands. The Ambassador looks to his secretary.

“They contacted me,” shen says, looking away. “Freedom of Thought. They told me that I had to call the Enterprise and tell you that they had captured the Ambassador. I had to be convincing, or they would kill both of us, and you, and everybody else they could.” Shen looks close to tears, and Spock reflects on the inefficiency of such emotional reactions when it comes to communicating needed information. 

“I tore down the books, the files, to make it look like somebody had broken in. And then I called. I tried to tell you, but you didn’t know the signing language!” 

And this time when Spock watches shens antennae move, he understands. A sign language that the Freedom of Thought agents didn’t know, but that the Enterprise was supposed to understand, supposed to interpret and see through the lies shen had been forced to tell.

“You were signaling the truth the entire time.”

It is a deception. They have captured Jim and they will hurt him, if not kill him, in their search for information. And Spock’s bond with him is not yet strong enough that he can tell where Jim is, or his condition.

“But where were you during all this?” Nyota asks the Ambassador.

“I was in a diplomatic meeting. I knew nothing of this. Did you not think to check?”

They had not. And because of that oversight, Freedom of Thought’s plan has succeeded. And Jim is in danger.

“What have you done since you received the message?” the Ambassador asks. And so Spock tells him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, an update to this fic. I finally get to reveal the plot twist I've been sitting on for a year.


End file.
